Evil Angel
by ventforblock
Summary: Harry finds a very unlikely surprise waiting for him one night. What happens beyond that is even more unexpected. And what will happen when it all spirals out of control? Pairings: HP/HG
1. Chapter 1

**So this is just a lovely smut oneshot nonsense thing I wrote to get rid of some writer's block. Enjoy.**

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"You're back awfully late."

Harry jumped, turning and backing into the dormitory door he'd just shut. His green eyes were wide behind the fringe of his dark hair and thick glasses and he could only stare for a moment.

"H-hermione! What are you doing here?" he stammered hurriedly, running a hand through his already mussed hair as he dropped his school bag beside the door. He strode over slowly, regarding her suspiciously. She had been acting odd ever since she and Ron had broken up after two months. Hermione, he knew, lived to please, lived to perform. But he had never expected the top girl in their class to fall so far after being dumped for Lavender Brown. Granted, Lavender had a great rack, but she was no Hermione.

"Just came by the see you," she said, shifting her position on his bed, "is that so bad?" Her usually neatly pulled-back curls were askew and some had escaped her ponytail and hung in her face. Her dark brown eyes were even darker in the uneven, fleeting light. She stretched her legs out a bit more before daintily kicking off her shoes.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he repeated, leaning on one of the bedposts. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at her over the rims of his glasses. He knew she wasn't just here to chat.

She pouted for a moment and he took the chance to admire her looks. She had developed well, not as impressively as Lavender Brown, perhaps, but still very nicely all the same. She had a nice figure; well-developed breasts, slim waist and stomach, and long, luxurious legs. He snapped out of his thoughts when she changed her position again so she was kneeling on his bed. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you here?" he repeated.

She sighed dramatically, crossing her arms moodily.

"I don't want to be in the girls' dormitories while Lavender and Ron are snogging it up. Is that a crime?"

"Hermione, you're Head Girl. You have your own dormitory," he reminded her, "And that doesn't explain why you're in the boys' dormitory, in my bed."

She pouted again, looking up at him petulantly before she replied, "Well, Harry, it's lonely in the Head's dormitory when it's just me. As for why I'm in your bed, I see no reason why not." She smirked, leaning forward. "Unless you object, of course."

He couldn't help but appreciate the view of her chest her new position gave him, thanks in part to the low neckline of the white school shirt. He swallowed, shifting his eyes back up to her face again.

"Hermione, you shouldn't be here," he forced out, taking his weight off the bedpost and crossing his arms. He didn't want her to leave, especially not when she was just sitting there and he wanted nothing more than to keep her there for an hour… or so.

She scowled, brows pulling together. She crawled toward him across the bed, predetorial look in her eye.

"You want this, Harry. And I want this. So what's the problem?" She reached up and grabbed his tie, pulling his head down. "What's holding you back?" Before he could reply, her lips covered his, nipping lightly, teasing. His hands went to her hair, one settling at the back of her neck, the other sliding down her back. His tongue brushed her lips lightly as her other hand knotted in his hair. Her lips parted, inviting him in like a lethal poison blossom, and he didn't hesitate. His tongue probed into her mouth and brushed over her tongue, trying to draw out a reaction. The battle of tongues that ensued was slow, hot, and heavy. He moaned quietly into the kiss, letting his hand slide further down her back, and pulled her body flush to his. Both of her hands went to his shoulders, hanging on to him when he moved.

He was just thinking about stopping her when she started trying to get his shirt off. He hopelessly tried to resist the delicious temptation of her lips and she almost succeeded in unbuttoning the garment before he pulled back, but she kept going on his neck.

"Hermione… Hermione, you need to… You need to st-stop. Ah, we need to stop," he managed between pants.

"Why?" she purred, sliding his shirt off his shoulders. He let it fall, forgetting his resistance in his lust and raging hormones.

He covered her lips with his, beginning to undo the buttons of her own shirt as their mouths made contact again and again. He started pushing her back on the bed, sliding her shirt off her shoulders. She flipped them so she was on top, straddling him. Her hips pressed into his and he groaned at the friction. But when she started undoing his belt, he pulled back again.

"'Mione… 'Mione, we need to stop," he insisted, holding her wrists to stop her hands. "What are we doing?" he asked beseechingly, wondering if it were possible to turn back from the forbidden.

"Do you not want to, Harry?" she asked, voice a silky purr, as she rolled her hips against him, "Because I think you do." She rolled her body again and he let go of her wrists, roughly grabbing her hips.

"Hermione, stop. We need to think about this. You're smarter than this, Hermoine."

"Are you saying I'm stupid for wanting this?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her bare stomach, "Or are you just projecting."

"See, this is the Hermione I know. Quick-witted, funny… You haven't been yourself. Be you again. Be logical about this," he said, expression soft as he took one hand from her hip and cupped her cheek. She leaned her face into his hand, closing her eyes for a moment before letting out a low sigh.

"I suppose you're right," she said, arms falling uselessly to her sides, "I just don't feel like me anymore. I thought brains were more important than looks, but I was wrong. I've been replaced by that blonde bimbo, Lavender, so there must be something wrong with me. And if it's so… disagreeable for you to be intimate with me, then I know it's true." She went to get off of him, but he grabbed her arm, keeping her there.

"I didn't say it was 'disagreeable', as you so eloquently put it, and you know all that isn't true. As much as I'm ashamed to say it, Ron is a git and only thinks with his dick. If it has breasts and will let him near it, there is a guarantee he'll go after it. That doesn't mean there's something wrong with you; it means he's an arse. Hermoine, you're smart, funny, and you've got an amazing right hook." She blushed and he smiled. "And you're modest, but you're stubborn. Hermione, you're just amazing and you're my best friend." He sighed. "You're my best friend and that's why this is so… weird." He hurriedly added, "I mean, not that it's weird, it's just-"

She put a finger over his lips, smiling softly.

"Harry, I get it. We're friends. Just friends. And friends don't fuck friends."

He stared openly. Profanity from Hermione Granger? Unheard of! But then again, she never snogged anyone without restraint, or exposed herself, but there she was, half undressed in his lap, her lips swollen from their kisses. Maybe she was full of contradictions now… She laughed at his expression, laying her arms over his shoulders.

"Then again, who says we have to be just friends?" she asked, eyes glittering mischievously. His face was level with her breasts and she almost laughed again at the color that rose in his cheeks.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" he asked skeptically. She didn't answer, kissing him softly as her fingers ran through his hair. This kiss was sweet, the kind only lovers shared. His hands drifted up her waist and around to her back, clumsily unhooking her bra. He didn't let her break the kiss when she slid it off, pressing their chests together again. Her breath caught and his lips ghosted down her neck, pausing over her pulse. Her hands ran down over his back, a shiver running down her spine at the feeling of taut muscle. She tilted her head, giving him more access as her fingertips traced up his arms and over his shoulders again. He pulled back to admire the mark he'd left on her perfect skin with a smirk. She caught his lips again, pulling their bodies as close as possible. He started fumbling with the zipper at the side of her skirt, but she slapped his hand away and stood, pulling him up with her. She finally pulled off his belt as he started on her skirt again and she'd just gotten his trousers undone when he let her skirt fall from her hips. She shoved his trousers down and pushed him back toward the bed. He stepped out of the offending garment and spun them before pushing her back onto the bed. He was on top of her again in an instant. She could feel how hard he was and smiled.

"No more protests?" she teased, running her leg slowly up the back of his calf. He didn't answer her, kissing down her neck to the tops of her breasts. Her back arched as he nipped the sensitive skin and she knotted her hands in his hair. His hands slid down her waist and settled on her hips, playfully pushing her panties lower. Her breathing grew more and more uneven as his lips moved downward and he was pushing her panties lower and lower until there was really no point in having them anymore. She untangled her hands from his hair and banished her panties and pushed his boxers down, letting him deal with them. She gasped when his mouth closed over her left nipple, the amazing sensations making her whole body want more. Her hand slid over his dick lightly at first, drawing a low growl out of him that made her desperate for even more, then with more and more confidence. He finally released her nipple and propped himself up on his forearms, looking down at her through lust-clouded eyes.

"You're one evil angel," he growled, smile pulling at his lip.

"Then do something about it," she panted, giving his dick one last squeeze. He grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head as he positioned himself at her sex. With one thrust, he entered her all the way and both gasped. She fought his hold on her wrists, but he didn't let go, capturing her lips in a fiery kiss like their first. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, her moans of pleasure silenced by his lips. Her hips pushed up against his, urging him to go faster. He willingly obeyed, speeding up until he was pounding her into the mattress. Their kiss broke apart when she sat up a bit so he hit a different angle.

"Harry… Fuck, yes…" she moaned, head tossed back. The bed creaked loudly under their frantic thrusting, but neither paid it any mind.

"Ah, Hermione… 'Mione, you're so tight," he growled, letting go of one of her wrists to lift her hips. She had just opened her mouth to reply when he hit that spot and she screamed. Afraid he'd hurt her, he immediately stopped.

"Merlin… Harry, do that again," she begged. He grinned, happily thrusting into her again. She screamed again, making goose bumps rise on his skin. Her nails raked down his back and he hissed, the heady sensation of pain and ecstasy making him breathe heavier. He could feel his orgasm coming, fast, but before he came, her walls tightened around him and she let out and ear-splitting scream. He pounded into her until he came too, weight falling onto his forearms that held him off her body.

Both were panting heavily and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He pulled out of her and rolled onto the small bed beside her. Automatically, she curled into his side, her head on his chest.

"That was… amazing," she finally said, looking up at him. He was still getting it through his head that he'd had sex with Hermoine Grander; Head Girl, his best friend, and his best mate's ex. He decided that all that didn't really matter right then.

"Mmhmm," he replied, kissing the top of her head. She yawned quietly and he knew it was the most adorable thing he'd ever see.

As they both groggily dozed off, it crossed his mind that he probably should have cast a silencing charm, but then again, what did it matter? With that last thought, he fell asleep, his best friend turned lover in his arms. No "I love you"s, no awkward demand for affection.

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**Feel free to tell me whether it's crap of it's the best damn thing you've ever read. =3**


	2. Chapter 2

**So after deciding that this isn't a totally bad idea, I am writing another chapter. Yay. Thank you for the reviews and for putting up with my mistakes. Trying to write in math class is not a good idea. =] Much love to those who favorited and/or gave criticism.**

Thunder clashed outside the window and Harry woke with a start, falling unceremoniously from the bed and onto the floor with a dull "thump". He didn't utter a sound, eyes already surveying the room. Nerves had, once again, gotten the better of him and his sleep. When nothing immediately made itself known to be a threat, he slowly got to his knees. The sound of steady breathing-someone sleeping-coming from the bundle of sheets on his bed made him freeze. Three things went through his mind at once: What, How, and Shit. His eyes flew to his bag by the door, too far to reach if whatever was now occupying his bed was dangerous. He took a slow breath and slowly rose into a crouch, peering over the edge of the mattress. He slowly straightened up, looking down.

A young woman was sleeping on her side, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm under the sheet she'd pulled up under her arms. Her hair had been in a bit of order, but was now almost entirely free of the hairband it had been held in. Soft brown curls were spread on the mattress around her head. She looked so innocent, so fragile.

His eyes got a little wider and he smacked a hand to his forehead. Hermione Granger was asleep in his bed, naked. How was he going to explain that to… He smiled, remembering the night before, and he realized his quick assessment of her upon finding her was incredibly false. He cast a quick glance at the clock on his bedstand and then looked out the window. 3:00 AM. A raging thunderstorm. Going back to sleep was out of the question. He looked back to Hermione, wondering if they would go back to being just friends after that. He knew, of course, she couldn't be upset or anything; it had been her idea! He shivered as a draft of cold air slid over him and began kicking through their piles of clothes, triumphantly pulling on his boxers after a moment of searching. His eyes wandering back to the window, rain streaming down the wind-rattled panes and he smiled ruefully. Even if what had happened the night before had not been the perfect romantic display of passion--in fact, it was no romance at all--he had at least held onto a slim hope for a slightly romantic morning. Sunshine filtering in through the windows, warming their skin and stirring them into wakefulness, still in each other's arms. He jumped slightly when another flash of lightning, followed by a dynamic clap of thunder, lit up the room for a moment. It seemed that all of the other occupants of the dormitory had come in after they'd fallen asleep after…

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. Well, now she was sure to be pissed. If Seamus and Neville and Ron and… Ron! He stealthily crept over to his friend's bed, letting out a low sigh of relief upon finding it empty. He must have stayed in the girls' dormitory with Lavender. He shuddered at the thought, but was thankful that he could postpone that ire. He shuddered at that thought. He did not want to be present when Ron found out, especially since Ron's and Hermione's tempers would probably be flaring, mainly directed at each other, but who knew who else could be sucked in. Harry was determined to stay out of that fight as long as possible.

He shivered when another draft brushed over his skin, contemplating whether he should get dressed or not, and if he did, what would he do then? His gaze fell back to Hermione's sleeping form as another blast of thunder seemed to shake the whole castle. He decided she must be a heavy sleeper and slipped back into his place beside her on the bed. It was almost automatic; as soon as his weight settled on the mattress, she turned to her other side and curled up against him. He stayed perfectly still, almost afraid to move for fear of waking her up but soon, the necessity of oxygen was too much and he risked the small movements taken to breathe. She didn't stir, and he gently put an arm around her shoulders, putting the other under his head when he realized his pillow had taken temporary leave of the vicinity.

They stayed like that for a few hours, Hermione contentedly sleeping under his arm and Harry staring blankly up at the red canopy over their heads. As it grew nearer and nearer to when sunrise would have been, Harry began to get anxious, his fingers drawing small circles over her back as he glanced around the dormitory, ready to leap up and keep anyone from seeing Hermione if the need arose. He stayed like that, nerves on end, for a good while before he slowly began to relax. Until the sound of feet hitting the floor practically electricuted him and he leapt up and jerked the curtains closed, cursing himself for not thinking of that sooner. Hermione mumbled something drowsily and sat up, still somehow keeping the sheet tucked under her arms as she stretched. He vaguely wondered if girls were just trained to know these things, or if it just happened.

"Good morning, Harry," she said, smiling almost smugly, "you seem tense…"

Harry was about to tell her to be quiet when another voice broke in:

"Harry? What's going on?"

Harry mentally berated himself for not thinking. Dean was almost always an early riser. Her tried to look like nothing was amiss, and it was not completely uncommon for him to where nothing to bed when he pulled open the curtain just enough to glare at his yearmate. But the glare died after only a moment when he saw Dean holding up a girl's bra. Hermione's bra.

"What, Dean?" he growled, but he couldn't help the anxious edge to his tone.

"Just wondering what was going on. Thought I heard a girl in there with you. Figure, you know, with this and, well." He gestured to the clothes strewn about on the floor. "I figure there must definitely be a girl there with you."

Harry practically saw red, but held down his response, shrugging noncommittally.

"And what if there was?"

"Well, I thought, you know," Dean rambled, dropping the feminine garment indiscreetly, "I thought… I thought I recognized the girl's voice, Harry." His voice dropped to a whisper when he spoke and Harry almost didn't hear him. But he laughed anyway, putting on a façade that only needed to last a few more moment before he could get Dean out of there.

`"I think you're hearing things, mate," he said, jovially patting the other young man's shoulder and grinning widely, "Maybe you should go get some fresh air. Must be getting to your head."

Dean seemed to know he was diverting him, but didn't question and instead continued out into the Common Room, closing the door behind him. Harry breathed out a pent up sigh of relief and stepped back into the cocoon of red brocade before sitting on the edge of his bed again.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, voice low. Her eyes were almost accusing and her body language was a dead give away to him that her innocent question held heavy repercussions.

"I… I assumed you didn't want anyone to know you were here. I mean, know that it was you," he said, stumbling over his words. He met her eyes levelly, and knew that what he had said hadn't sounded to her the way it had to him.

"Harry, that doesn't make any sense. Did you not want him to know we'd had sex? Do you not want to remember that we had sex?" she asked, slowly moving toward frantic.

"No! No, no, Hermione, please," he begged, taking her hands in his, "Please, just listen I can-"

"You can what?" she demanded bitterly, "You can explain? Ha. You men can always explain, can't you. 'No, it's not what you think. I can explain. I wasn't kissing her, I fell down and she caught me with her lips'. Yeah, you can explain." She slid out of the bed, her back to him, and cautiously reached out under the curtain and gather up her clothes, throwing them on haphazardly.

"Hermione, please, just let me explain what I said," he pleaded as he grabbed her arm to hold her back, looking up at her beseechingly. But she jerked her arm out of his grasp and slipped out of the boys' dormitory like a ghost; silent and without a trace.

**A lovely "the day after" scene. Well, not really lovely… but whatever. Please review, I take them all to heart.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, seeing as how this isn't really going as expected, I'm going to take this opportunity to say… Good! =) And I think I'll add some Ginny-bashing to this chapter… Haha. Enjoy.**

Harry stared, bewildered and dismal, at the door that had closed behind Hermione almost an hour before. What had he said to make her react like that? Had she been upset that he'd wanted to make sure no one knew? Now that he thought about that, it definitely did sound like he didn't want people to know for his own reasons, not to protect her good reputation. He cursed himself under his breath and hung his head, elbows propped on his knees. The other occupants of the dormitory had already departed for breakfast, leaving Harry in the relative silence within. How had he been so stupid? He knew--well, at least he hoped he knew--that women were unnaturally sensitive and, contrary to popular belief, he was now almost positive Hermione was more so than most. Why hadn't he seen this coming? Why? There was no way she would just appear in his bed wanting sex if there wasn't something wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. He flinched, knowing that he had made a terrible mistake. Again. He ran a hand over his forehead, feeling the scar there. Why did he always seem to make sort of awful mistake? He could only make general, but incredibly informed, guesses.

"Oi, mate, are you coming to breakfast for what?"

Harry's head jerked up as Ron's voice called up from the Common Room. He paled visibly, though no one was there to see and he was glad for it. He stood and quickly began gathering up his clothes from the floor, pulling them on and ignoring the obvious wrinkles.

"Yeah, I'm coming. Sorry. Woke up late, you know?"

He scooped up his bag from where he'd dropped it the night before, brief memories assaulting his senses before he shook his head to clear it. He practically flew down the stairs, almost running Ron over.

"Jeez mate, you look like hell," Ron pointed out bluntly. Harry ignored his comment, aware of the dishevelled state of his entire being.

"And you look like you've won the House Cup. Are we going to breakfast or what?" Harry replied snappily, hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder. And Ron did look incredibly pleased with himself. Harry could only imagine--not that he wanted to,--what he had been up to the night before…

"Right, 'course," Ron answered amiably, leading their way out of the Common Room and into the corridors. Ron seemed to be bursting to spill his guts to his best friend, but said best friend was in a dismal mood and not in the mood to indulge him. So Ron began speaking anyway:

"Mate, you will never guess how great, just bloody great last night was," he started, grinning, "I mean really great."

"I get it Ron. It was great," Harry snapped.

"But really mate, Lavender is just… She was just… You know what I mean mate?"

Harry held down a shiver and put on a strained smile as he replied, "Frankly Ron, no I don't."

And with that brusque comment, their conversation stopped, leaving them to walk in silence to the Great Hall.

Breakfast was almost half over by the time they arrived, which made Harry wonder how much Ron really knew--because he was never so calm about nearly missing breakfast--or if Lavender was really thatgood. In fact, Ron seemed almost pleased they'd almost missed the meal, striding with a jaunty step to the Gryffindor table and plopping himself down beside Lavender. She smiled, greeting him with a very passionate kiss. Harry composed his face to hide his disgusted expression at his best mate's behavior and took a seat a little ways off from the couple. He looked up and down the table, trying to find Hermione. She was already seated at the opposite end of the table, probably as far as she could possibly be from him. He let out a sad sigh before looking back to the table in front of him.

"You seem a little… out of sorts, Harry. Are you alright?"

He glanced over his shoulder and shrugged, not facing the girl behind him.

"I'm fine, Gin. Just tired," he replied, keeping his answers as nondescript as possible.

"Well," she said, looking off down the table as he had been moments earlier, "Whatever girl has you sighing must be lucky if she's got your attention. But she's probably not worth it." The cunning smile on her face and the look in her eye made him wonder if he were a man, or a prey animal.

"And what makes you think it was a girl?" he asked thinly, fists clenching under the table. When had she become so… direct? Tactless? His disgusted expression slipped through now, showing his distaste.

"Well, that look on your face is one thing," she replied, seating herself practically in his lap, "And then there's the fact that beside Ron, there are only girls down at that end of the table. And I'm almost positive you don't fancy my brother. If you were gay, there are much more desirable men."

Harry must have looked very shocked because she laughed, a shrill sound that made him want to shove his fingers in his ears. In fact, what he really wanted was to push her away from him and go talk to Hermione, but that would not be discreet at all. When Harry didn't laugh with her, Ginny gave him a disappointed look, crossing her arms and pushing up her breasts. He shook his head and stood, turning to leave.

"Harry!" she whined, grabbing his arm to hold him back, "Where are you going?" She made her eyes wide and batted her eyes a few times, trying to look beseeching. Trying, no succeeding.

"Honestly Gin, I'm not sure. But it's not here," he stated simply, pulling his arm from her grip, "and it's not with you." Without further explanation, he turned on his heel and stalked out, thoughts swirling through his head. Most of them concerned how manipulative Ginny was and how confusing women were. And unknown to him, not one, but two pairs of eyes followed him out.

He trotted up the last flight of stairs to the Astronomy tower, pushing the door open and stepping out. The rain splattered against his skin and the wind whipped around him. The cold, damp air woke him up a bit, bringing his mind into focus. What could he possibly do to fix this… this mess? What could he possibly say without offending her? He leaned back against the wall, tilting his head back and letting the rain run down his face. He let his eyes fall closed, ignoring the nagging at the back of his mind telling him to get out of the rain before his clothes were soaked. It was peaceful, the monotony of the rain. Almost therapeutic and- A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning made him jump. He'd almost forgotten the thunder. So much for calming. He shook his head and pulled off his glasses, trying in vain to find a dry corner of his shirt to wipe the water off. He let out a huffy sigh and put them back on, still spattered with water and went to the door. He gave it a tug, but it didn't budge. His eyes went wide and he tugged on it a bit harder.

"No, no, no," he muttered over and over, desperately trying to open the heavy door. He pounded on it, wondering if there was anyone that could possibly hear him. After about ten minutes of banging, he slid down, back to the floor, onto the flagstoned ground. How in Merlin's name was he going to get out of this? Unless he could get a message to- That was it! A message! He pulled his wand from his cloak.

"Accio Hedwig." He wasn't entirely sure how well this would work, summoning a living being, but it was worth a shot. And sure enough, the snowy owl appeared in front of him, looking a bit distraught and ruffled, but otherwise intact. He smile and stroked her head before he pulled out a soggy piece of parchment, quil and ink. Hedwig ruffled her feathers as water dripped on her and Harry scrawled out his message. He clumsily tied it to her leg.

"To Hermione, please Hedwig. It's urgent."

The owl regarded him blandly, as if silently reminding him that she would remember being dragged from her most likely warm perch to carry messages across the castle in the rain. But with a low cry, she took off, straining against the wind as she took wind. Harry watched her for a moment before resigning himself to wait, though he didn't know for how long.

Hermione was in the middle of Arithmancy when Hedwig found her, headbutting her elbow shamelessly until the young witch took the letter from he rleg with a quick "thank you". Hermione's eyes skimmed the paper and she sighed, shoving it into her pocket.

"Excuse me, Professor? May I be excused for a moment?" she asked as soon as the professor ceased the endless stream of formulas. Before the full consent had even been voiced, Hermione was out of her seat and halfway to the door, already looking hot and bothered. And what could have possibly been written on the note to rile her up so?

_Hermione,_

_Need help. Stuck outside. Astronomy Tower. Sorry about this morning but need your help. Talk later?_

_Harry_

**Yet another chapter. I'm considering re-doing this one if enough people complain.**


	4. Chapter 4

****

Thank you again everyone for the reviews and the favorites. =)

Harry was shivering furiously, teeth chattering against the cold. He was most definitely soaked by now and had begun to wonder if Hedwig had even been agle to find Hermione. He stared longingly at the door. He'd shouted "Alohomora" at it so many times he was probably hoarse, so it had become apparent that the door wasn't locked, but stuck. Just his luck. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and pulled his knees up to his chest. He looked up to the clouded sky, watching lightning streak across the skies to a serenade of thunder. He heard a quiet groan and looked toward the door as it slowly inched open, then fell shut. He stared at it, puzzled, for a moment before scrambling to his feet.

Hermione threw her shoulder against the door again and groaned, rubbing her shoulder tenderly. She shook out her arms and scowled, rolling her neck. With a huff, she slammed her shoulder into the door again. She felt it start to push back and tried to brace her feet. A hand closed around the edge of the door, pulling it open a few more inches. She looked up, slightly shocked to see Harry, though she had no reason to be. With one last shove, he jumped inside, door slamming behind him. His bag fell from his shoulder and he shook his head, water spraying from his hair.

"How did you get out there?" she asked, wiping the rain from her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest rose and feel steadily after the effort to open the door.

"Can we talk?" he countered, keeping his expression even. His eyes wandered over her before going back to her eyes.

"We are talking," she replied shortly, crossing her arms. She made an impressive figure; expression hard, hip popped, and all body language pointing to the fact that she was not at all pleased.

"I mean about this morning," he amended, wiping his glasses on the hem of his soggy shirt. When she didn't interrupt him, he continued, "I didn't mean it. I mean, no. I did mean it, but not how you thought I did.f I didn't mean that I didn't want last night to happen." He sighed. "You have no idea how much I wanted that to happen without even knowing it." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not trying to say it should happen again, as good as it was. But it wasn't bad."

She didn't say anything, only stared at him for a moment. She didn't seem affected, or even to have heard him.

"Hermione?"

"I need to go back to Arithmancy, Harry," she said simply, trying to get past him. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back. He blocked her way with hands planted on either sides of her shoulders.

"Hermione, why can't we talk?" he demanded, looking down at her. His eyes were dark. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you," she snapped angrily, "I just need to go back to class. We have NEWTs, Harry, and I need to be in class."

"That's a lie," he growled, "You're smart enough to not need the class. And ever since this morning you've been avoiding me. You left, you stayed away from me, and now you're trying to get away from me. What's going on?"

She glared up at him, lifting her chin defiantly.

"Nothing," she said, "no let me pass." But he didn't move. "Merlin, Harry, are you really going to be like this?" He still didn't move. She let out an exasperated sigh. "So juvenile…"

He smirked, still blocking her path. He didn't seem to care about her tirade, leaning over her a bit more. She stared at him oddly, eyes slowly growing wider. He tilted his head slightly and pressed his lips to hers gently. She tensed up immediately, hands going to his chest. She tried to push him off, but he was much bigger and stronger than she was. She pounded a fist on his chest futilely, but he didn't move away. In fact, he got closer, pressing their bodies together. She was stuck, the wall at her back and around six feet of Quidditch muscle at her front. His lips were insistent, trying to make her react to him. She shoved at him a few more times, trying to shrink into the wall. After a few more unsuccessful attempts, her fist flew, catching his jaw. He took a step back, rubbing his chin.

"I knew you had a good right hook," he said, still looking down at her.

"Harry, last night shouldn't have happened," she said evenly, her breathing shallow. "It was…" She took a deep breath. "It was a mistake, Harry. It was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. No matter how amazing or incredible it was, it was a moment of weakness for both of us." She shook her head futilely. "I just… I'm sorry!" She bolted away, practically falling down the stairs away from him.

Harry stared, dumbstruck, after her for a moment before bolting after her.

"Hermione, wait!"

"Leave me alone, Harry!" It was almost a sob.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs. How could she say that? Right after she'd been so upset when she though he hadn't wanted to remember… he turned it over and over in his mind, but nothing made sense. The abrupt about-face in her mood made him question. Was something wrong with Hermione? He couldn't think of any reason for there to be… He ran a hand over his face. Nothing made sense. He just couldn't explain what was happening. He sighed, rubbing his forehead before slowly trudging back up the stairs. He scooped up his bag with a grunt and hoisted it onto his shoulder.

"Women," he muttered as he descended the stairs again.

* * *

Hermione paced the Common Room of the Heads' dormitories, mind churning. It had been dodgy, but she'd avoided anymore confrontation. And that wasn't for Harry's lack of trying. Whenver he had a chance, he begged for her to talk to him, but she wouldn't. She continued her feverish pacing, stopping every now and again to mutter something frustratedly.

"Men!" she finally exploded, glaring into the fire that had been lit in the hearth. Why didn't they understand. Why didn't Harry understand? She'd needed someone and she'd gone to him, knowing she could trust him. But nothing felt right. Being with him, being without him… She put a hand to her chest, feeling something begin to ache. Being with any man didn't feel right. She sighed. In fact, she was almost sure that even if she did get back together with Ron, it wouldn't feel right either. She winced when the ache grew worse. Heartbreak. A woman's worst nightmare and the bane of those around her. Tears silently slid down her face, but she angrily brushed them away. She refused to succumb to emotional turmoil. She would stay in control.

* * *

Harry stared darkly into the fire of the Gryffindor Common Room, chin propped on his fist. He sat low in one of the winged arm chairs, elbow set on one armrest. His mind had long given up on figuring out what was wrong with Hermione, and after she'd so bluntly rebuffed him, he wasn't sure how to get to her. There was nothing left for him to do, it seemed. Everything seemed to be spiralling out of control. He hung his head, fore arms holding his weigh on his knees. She refused to talk to him, but there was so much he needed to still say. He pounded the heels of his palms into his temples. How could he get her to listen to him?

"Oi, mate. If you keep doing that, you'll give yourself a headache."

Harry looked up, not showing any sign of happiness at seeing his best mate. Ron looked at him curiously.

"You alright, mate? You like awful. And you never explained why you were soaked in Transfiguration," he rambled.

Harry ignored him, shrugging vaguely at the onslaught of curiosity. He had more important things to think about.

"Harry, are you even listening to me?"

"Frankly, Ron, no, I'm no," he finally said, standing, "And on that note, I…" He paused. "That's it." He turned and dashed up into the boys' dormitories.

"What's it?" Ron called after him, but he got no answer.

**Yet another chapter. This one written in Chemistry, no less.**


	5. Author's Note

**Hey all. I'm sorry but I don't think I will be able to write anything more for a while. I'm not sure when I will continue again, but hopefully it will be in the near future. Right now, however, my frame of mind is not exactly ideal for concocting plotlines. I am sorry, but I can't write in this state.**


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